


Whisky-ed Away

by williamspockspeare



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: A little bit of angst, Episode: s03e18 The Lights of Zetar, First Kiss, Fluff, Get Together, I'm on a mistaken date trend apparently, LOTS OF ALCOHOL CONSUMPTION, M/M, Scotty and McCoy deserve love ok?, The Enterprise crew are terrible matchmakers, awkward but sweet, bonding over whisky, small references to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 01:37:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20788442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/williamspockspeare/pseuds/williamspockspeare
Summary: Everyone on the Enterprise seems to have found their true love - except for Leonard McCoy. However, when he's forced to go on a blind date, he'll discover that love drinks at the same bar.





	Whisky-ed Away

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! Took a break from my regular schedule of Spirk to explore a little bit of Scones. Hope you enjoy!

For all the advice he liked to dish out, Leonard McCoy seemed no better at curing loneliness than any of his patients.

Tonia Barrows dumped him.

He had seen it coming. After all, they had only really spent time together on shore leaves, and the talking they did was mostly centred on where to ditch their clothes before hopping in the sack. It was a mistake he had made before – thinking sex would cement a relationship – a mistake he had warned too many others about to deserve self-pity.

But a bruise was a bruise.

It might not have hurt so much, if things aboard ship had been different. A few years ago, when the wounds from the divorce were much fresher, he had been able to brush off heartbreak with some ease. He had his friends. He had the anonymity of being part of a Starship. Hell, wasn’t like anybody else on the Enterprise senior staff was doing any better than he was in the romance department.

Now, however, things had changed.

First, Chekov and Sulu hooked up. And that didn’t surprise him in the least. They’d been inseparable for years, and he’d noticed those ‘invented in Russia’ jokes had ramped up as soon as Sulu started finding them hilarious.

Good for them, he’d thought, and moved on.

Then, six months later, Christine Chapel had walked in to his office with a beaming smile, and a hand in Lieutenant Uhura’s, and filled out the declaration for official relations.

That had made him scratch his head, sure. Two senior officer relationships? Unusual to say the least, but not unprecedented. With Chapel’s googly-eyes over Spock, he guessed he’d never noticed her attentions turn to another intelligent officer.

Well, her taste was improving.

But then came the worst one of all.

A month ago, Jim leaned over the mess hall table, with the smile of a teenager, not a Starship captain.

“We’ve got some news,” he said, the words barely enough to contain the boyish glee in his voice. His lovesick gaze looked to Spock for assurance, confirmation, and while the Vulcan sat unmoved, McCoy saw the slight turn of affection in the corner of his mouth.

And that’s when he’d known this ship had something seriously wrong with it.

He wasn’t sure why his commanding officers’ relationship bothered him so much. But it did.

They were disgustingly perfect for each other. While neither one of them was his type, Leonard could admit even their looks were complimentary – Jim’s beaming smile against Spock’s cool indifference – like some kind of stupid ‘opposite attract’ cliché in a holo-movie.

He saw how much they cared.

Jim, of course, loved with every fibre of his being. He never did anything halfway, no matter how stupid, and love was no exception. That hadn’t been the shock – McCoy had warned him to be careful about chasing an alien who insisted he didn’t have a heart to win. From his experience with his ex, he knew more often than not people warned you about the right things.

But before long, he began to notice how damn careful Spock was around Jim in turn. He grew quiet and morose when Jim looked to anyone else for affection – and with the captain’s eyes upon him, showed more damn emotion than he’d ever admit to. And through it all, Spock never faltered in his loyalty, his friendship, his support for Jim.

That, he had to admit, was love.

He didn’t resent them – he couldn’t, he liked them too much. But it hurt. They weren’t supposed to have this. None of them. Not Sulu, not Chekov, not Chapel, not Jim, not Spock, not Uhura. Yet, they all were succeeding. All of them were as deep and as truly in love as they had been warned could never happen.

That wouldn’t happen for him.

Envy. Not jealousy. Like all incurable diseases, it ate at you from the inside, made you wish you didn’t have a heart at all.

The irony was pretty fucking clear.

But self-pity wasn’t a good look in a doctor. He pushed those feelings down, scolded himself as he would have scolded anyone else. Romance wasn’t everything. He had plenty of time to find love in his life. Better to have loved and lost than…

Well. If clichés weren’t the cure, bourbon would be.

It was difficult to cure yourself, after all.

*

The crew kept acting funny.

*

Sulu and Chekov invited him to play cards.

Which was weird for one, because they didn’t play cards. Two, they kept name-dropping Mr. Scott, as if McCoy didn’t know that Scotty was the best card shark in the engineering sector. And three, he'd never spent that much time with them in the first place (Chekov was twenty two for god’s sake, he did enough babysitting on the clock). What made them so interested now? 

They were playing Uno. That settled it. He firmly declined the offer.

*

Uhura cornered him in the lounge.

“We’re having a dance this Wednesday.”

She held out a card, with pastel flower designs and curly typeface with dates and times.

He frowned. “And?”

“You’re gonna come, aren’t you?”

“Me?”

The idea was ridiculous. Dances were for Academy kids – for teenyboppers and sweaty-palmed rookies. Besides, he wasn’t a very good dancer.

“No, thanks. I don’t think I’d fit in.”

Her smile slid off her face, surprisingly crestfallen. “Doctor McCoy – you’re always welcome at any party on board. We’d be happy to have you. And plenty of other men your age will be there. Lieutenant-Commander Scott, for instance.”

“That’s not what I mean, Lieutenant,” he said, with a sigh. “It’s not about my age.”

“Then are you coming?”

“No.” He hesitated, before deciding to be candid. “In fact, I’d rather make out with a Klingon.”

And from the rise of her brows, he wouldn’t be getting another invite soon.

Good.

*

“Doctor, are you available to socialize this evening?”

McCoy looked up from his medical reports. Spock stood before him, looking totally unaware that he had just said the most unnatural sounding sentence he’d ever heard.

“Am I what?”

“Available to socialize,” Spock repeated, undeterred. “Mr. Scott and I are scheduled to meet in the observation deck lounge at 2000 hours. It would be preferable if you would join us.”

“Just you and Mr. Scott?”

“Yes.”

McCoy scrunched his nose, distrusting the offer.

“Don’t you usually spend time with cuddle-bug after hours?”

Spock pursed his lips, in his starchy, couldn’t-take-a-joke-with-sugar-on-a-spoon way.

“The captain is overseeing the junior lieutenant training exercise on theta shift, and will therefore be unavailable all evening. It is only logical—”

“Please, Mr. Spock.” McCoy put a hand to his forehead. “I’m not interested in the logic.”

And though he seemed disappointed, Spock didn’t elaborate.

“What do you mean ‘socialize’, anyhow?”

“Mr. Scott intended to discuss the most recent technical journal he completed – apparently detailing the positronic circuitry advancements of the Beta Quadrant laboratories. He also mentioned an interest in sharing the interpersonal anecdotes of the engineering sector.”

Oh God. That was the last thing he needed. A night spent talking about technology he didn’t understand, and Spock’s total ignorance on any subject worth talking about.

He scoffed. “Yeah, no thanks.”

Spock frowned sharply. “You are not interested in meeting Mr. Scott?”

That was a weird way of phrasing it. McCoy ignored it; Spock’s phrasing was always weird.

“I’m busy. I’ve got reports overdue.”

“Is it possible to defer your workload to Nurse Chapel?”

Now that was suspicious.

“Since when have you ever advocated for slacking off?”

Spock straightened, blinked imperiously. Another sign something was up.

“That is not what I am suggesting. However, it is beneficial to you as a member of this crew, and as a human being to engage in social interaction. My offer still stands.”

Maybe that was all it was. Maybe it was just Spock’s alien way of asking. But the whole thing smelled fishy.

Either way, he knew his answer. McCoy shook his head.

“No thanks, Spock.” He clucked softly, opening a new tab on his PADD. “I don’t need any more technical mumbo-jumbo in my life.”

In his periphery, he noticed Spock shifted, seeming unsatisfied with the answer. It seemed he could find no logical retort, however.

“Very well. Good afternoon.”

And as Spock whisked out of his office, McCoy began to wonder if he was missing something.

*

“Are you ok, Bones?”

McCoy looked up from his tumbler of whisky (just his luck, they were out of bourbon).

Jim leaned against the counter of the officers’ lounge bar, eyes narrowed. To McCoy’s eyes, he looked concerned – in the searching way, as if he wasn’t sure what that concern should be.

Like hell if he was getting into that tonight. 

He snorted. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna diagnose me, captain. I’m the doctor, not you.”

Jim frowned, folded his arms over his chest. “I heard Tonia broke up with you. Two weeks ago?”

That made him pause. He ran his tongue over his front teeth. _Shit._

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Look, it’s not a big deal, Jim.” He wasn’t in the mood for sympathy – it wasn’t a good chaser. He shifted on his chair. “’Nuff time’s passed, I’m over it. We didn’t even have a relationship, really, so there wasn’t anything to get over.”

Jim didn’t say anything, just held his gaze.

McCoy sighed, took a sip, and mumbled into the glass, “I always felt like an idiot trying to talk to her anyway.”

“Then you need someone that you’re comfortable with, Bones. You need someone who’ll support you.”

“Oh, please.”

He was getting tired of being treated like a charity case, like a lost cause. He wished like hell Jim and the rest would leave him alone.

“Someone who’s interested in more than just sex,” Jim continued, tone growing a bit more pointed.

“And where am I gonna find that?” McCoy snapped, at last, slamming his glass down on the table. “Damnit, Jim, I’m forty-two! I’m stuck on this ship, it takes three weeks to send so much as a ‘hello’ to any planet with life, never mind develop a relationship! I’m not like the rest of you, I’m not young and handsome, I’m not gonna have men and women fall all over me if I walk into a space port. I’m here, I’m by myself, and that’s that.”

“That’s not that. You have options.”

“Bullshit.” He folded his arms across his chest, Jim’s obstinacy fuelling his anger. “You know damn well I’m right. And quit acting like a therapist, would you? I hate that.”

Beside him, Jim stood silent for a moment. Leonard ignored him.

Then, Jim stepped forward and spun his chair to face him.

“Hey – what are you—?!”

“I was going to broach the subject more carefully, but since you’re being stubborn, I’ll cut to the chase.” Jim was quite close, hand still on the back of his seat. He had a fire in his eyes that said he deadly serious. “The crew and I are sick and tired of you moping around, feeling sorry for yourself. At 2100 hours, I’ve arranged someone to come and meet you.”

McCoy spluttered. “You set me up on a date?”

“Yep. Here. Tonight.”

“Jim, you can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m completely serious.” He let go of his chair, standing up. “This is going to be the date of your life – one that you can not afford to miss. In fact, I’m ordering you to go on it. And if I find out that you’ve stood them up, I’ll report you for insubordination.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

A smirk crossed his lips. “I’d even let Spock pick your punishment.”

McCoy gasped. “What?”

“So, be a good boy, and follow orders.”

As he stammered a protest, Jim rolled his eyes, grinning.

“Come on, Bones. You’ll be fine. I even think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by who it is.”

“It doesn’t matter who it is!” A sudden wave of nerves washed over him, made him leap up from his seat. “I’m not…ready – I’m not the type who can just leap into conversation with a woman, Jim!” He ran a hand across his brows. “Reschedule it – let me meet them tomorrow – I need to prepare, I need—”

“You need to relax. What could possibly go wrong?”

“A lot!”

Jim laughed, not seeming to understand that McCoy wasn’t joking at all. His track record in romance was probably one of the worst in Starfleet.

“Jim, please. Don’t make me do this.”

“Bones, if there’s one thing you’ve always done, it’s push me onto the right path. I’m just returning the favour.” Jim clapped him on the arm, shoving him back into his chair. “This’ll be good for you. I’ve picked a lovely candidate – a perfect match, if I’m not mistaken. You sit right here and wait. Everything will go swimmingly, I promise.”

McCoy gave a half-flinch in his seat, his body seeming to want to take over from his mind and get the hell out of dodge.

“But, I—”

“No buts!”

Jim had already crossed the room.

“You’re a dating man now, Bonesy. Have fun!”

And with a far-too-happy-with-himself grin, Jim and his only chance at a nice evening disappeared out the door.

God, he was screwed.

What was he going to do? He was severely out of practice. What did you say to a woman that didn’t make you sound like an idiot, or a desperate basket case?

Knowing his luck, Jim had probably snagged him the hottest woman on the recent transfer list. And how was he supposed to charm her? With surgical anecdotes?

_Maybe I’ll just say I like her eyes. That’s always a nice start. _

But where to go from there? And what if her eyes were hideous? Oh, God, what if Jim had set him up with some alien that didn’t even have eyes?

The line of thought – more of a downward spiral than a line – was interrupted by the doors of the lounge swishing open.

McCoy shot to his feet, a flush of nerves heading to his cheeks at once.

“Evening, doctor.”

But seeing the person – the man – in the doorway, his spirits did a 180.

“Scotty!”

He nearly skipped to his side.

“Boy, am I glad to see you!”

The Scotsman’s brows furrowed, but he kept his convivial smile.

“Something wrong then?” He looked to the bar. “The taps haven’t run outta whisky, have they?”

McCoy laughed. “No, no! Just that you being here saves me a hell of a lot of trouble.”

Slapping a friendly hand on his back, he ushered Scotty to the bar.

“Now, you can’t let Jim know, but I’d appreciate it if you stayed here for a while. You see, I’m supposed to be on a date tonight.”

A little noise of confusion escaped him.

“I know that.”

His explanation half-formed, the comment made McCoy do a double take.

“You know?”

“It’s all the senior brass have talked about for two days. Didn’t they ask you to—?”

“No, they didn’t ask me!” McCoy huffed, leaning an arm on the bar. Of course he was the last to know about everything, even his own dating life. “They assume because they’re all cozyin’ up to each other that everybody needs a partner. Like I’m missing an organ by not having a woman in my bed.”

“Oh.” Scotty’s gaze dropped to the bar counter. “You’re dating a woman, are ye?”

He scoffed. “Not for long, believe me.” At Scotty’s perplexed gaze, he shrugged. “I doubt I’m anybody’s hot property on this ship.”

“What?” Scotty sounded particularly affronted. “Where are you off to, getting’ such silly ideas in your head? Don’t discount yourself, man! You’re a fine catch – a damn fine one at that.”

McCoy blinked. “You think so?”

“Aye!” And Scotty shifted in seat, looking suddenly a little self-conscious. “I mean, er… I’m sure the woman will think so.”

“Well, I hope you’re right.”

Scotty placed his order, a tumbler of malt whisky sliding down the counter from the replicator chute and landing neatly before him.

Besides Scotty taking his first sip, there was little noise else to distract from the swirling thoughts in McCoy’s head.

He sighed. “God I hate this.”

“I could move down, if you’d like.”

“Not you, Scotty.” He folded his arms onto the counter, a shred of resolve stopping him from banging his head into it. “I…I hate that it’s come to this. I hate that I have to be set up on a blind date. I’m too old for this kind of thing.”

“I understand the feeling.”

McCoy realized suddenly that he had neglected the engineer entirely in his appraisal of the senior brass. Because the man beside him, now looking somewhat downcast, was certainly no more attached than he.

Though it was hard to imagine why. Scotty was charming and funny, a great listener, and a good friend. But then again, McCoy’s opinions of love had never seemed to hold much water.

Apology wavering on his lips, not finding the right words, McCoy moved a hand to his shoulder.

“Don’t you get upset on me. This was supposed to be my pity party, not yours.”

“True enough.” Scotty chuckled into his glass, then reconsidered the drink, putting it down. “But I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes I get so caught up in my job, I forget that life exists outside the Enterprise. And when I do remember, I find that I haven’t done much living at all.”

McCoy hummed in surprise, the sentiment striking him as untrue.

“You’ve got a life, Scotty. What are you talking about? You’re the best damn engineer in the ‘Fleet. You’ve mastered more circuitry patterns and technical know-how than even the hobgoblin. That’s not lifeless to me.”

“I know.” One finger was tracing idle patterns into the bar counter, the corners of his mouth turned down. “I’m satisfied for the most part. But there comes a time in every man’s life when you weigh the accomplishments you’ve got, against the people there to cheer you on. And when they’re not equal…” He shook his head, picking up his glass. “I suppose I’m lonely, is all. Love’s not something you learn in technical journals.”

“Huh. I’ll drink to that.”

Casting a wry smile each other’s way, they clinked tumblers.

McCoy observed him over the rim of his glass, pleased to see that Scotty’s smile didn’t fade. He liked the engineer, quite a lot if he was being honest. He was one of the few practical, grounded officers aboard ship – someone with whom Bones could shoot the shit without being confronted with logic, or flowery poetry, or judgment.

Nice looking too.

Quickly, he took a sip to banish the thought from his mind. The whisky was rough, but warm going down.

*

“And by the time I made it to the docking bay, my pants had split wide open!”

Two hours, and two whiskys deep into the evening, Bones had forgotten all about nerves and awkward first dates. Sprawled on the lounge couch, he threw back his head in laughter, banging his foot up and down on the table to control his hysterics. At his side, Scotty was wheezing at his own tale, wiping streams of tears from his eyes.

“God, that’s funny,” McCoy said, once he could manage words. Smiling, he slung an arm around the engineer. “I can’t believe you didn’t notice before then!”

“Aye. I wish I had holograph of Lieutenant Romaine’s eyes – fair popped out of her head!”

Making an approximate expression, they were thrown into stitches once more.

Scotty was great, Bones thought, lazy and warm. Scotty was just about the best guy ever.

“Well, now I know why that didn’t make it into the record.” Bones let his head fall backward, the sleepy lull of a good evening’s worth of drink and banter tugging at him. He stifled a yawn. “Whatever happened to you and Lieutenant Romaine, anyhow?”

“Oh.”

Scotty made a dismissive noise, and this close, McCoy realized he was leaning not against the cushions but the engineer’s chest.

Well that was all right, they were friends, he thought. And Scotty didn’t seem to mind him there. In fact, he noticed the engineer’s arm was wrapped gingerly around his side. Almost as if…

Nah.

“Just weren't right for each other. Mira was interested in promotions and diversifying her career. And I wouldn't be bothered spending my whole life astride a warp core. I suppose that was enough. No matter how many upgrades you perform on a machine, the gears have to interlock at the end of the day."

McCoy knew such a sentiment in his bones. He empathized with the man, even if he was brushing off his pain. Since Mira had transferred out, he had seen how her absence had hurt the gentle engineer. It made him angry that such a good man could still get crushed by the same heartbreak as any jerk. 

"And besides I—" He felt Scotty shift. "Er, well, never mind.”

McCoy glanced up. “You what?”

Scotty shook his head. “Ach, I’m jabberin’.”

“No you weren’t. Go on.”

“No. There’s nothing worse than an auld Aberdeen pub crawler getting sentimental.”

“Try me.”

Bones nudged him gently, then shifted onto his side to get a better look at him. Scotty’s face had a wonderful pink glow under the influence, one that brought out his sparkling eyes, and his soft and friendly features. Maybe that was just the whisky working its rose-coloured magic.

But then again, maybe not. Scotty was a pretty handsome guy.

“Well,” Scotty chuckled, looking away with some self-effacement. “I was going to say that it all worked out, in a way. After all, if she'd stayed, I wouldn't have had eyes to appreciate the bonniest fellow in the 'Fleet.”

“Oh.”

It sunk his spirits. Jesus, everyone and their mother had stars in their eyes on this ship! Bones was starting to think he had a some kind of love-repellent disease at this rate.

Still, he decided to be nice. If anyone deserved romance on this godforsaken ship, it was Scotty.

“Well, here's to your optimism.”

Reaching for his tumbler, McCoy drained the last dregs. But when he glanced back to his Scottish drinking compatriot, he found him far more sober than he’d like.

“I mucked it up, didn't I?” Scotty sighed. “Well, I gave it a shot. I appreciate you spending your evening with me at all. You were under no obligation to.”

Bones shook his head. “What are you talking about? You’re my friend. In fact, you’re the only reason I decided to stay put after Jim…”

Huh. That was funny, now that he thought of it. Where the hell was that date Jim had arranged?

Scotty sighed, moved to sit upright.

“I suppose you thought it was funny that the crew picked me to set you up with.”

The sentence hit him like a ton of bricks to the face.

“Set—?!” was all he managed, watching as Scotty nodded gravely.

“It doesnae make much sense on paper, I’m sure. I mean, I keep to myself, I’ve not much experience in these things, whereas you…” He huffed, looking away. “You’re the whole package. You’ve got the charm and the bravery going for you. And I know you’ve made quite the splash amongst some of the ladies.”

“Tonia Barrows,” he blurted, and immediately cursed himself. Shit! Why the hell had he brought up the name of his ex now, of all times?

“Er, right. So, I know it may seem odd. But…” Scotty seemed to struggle for the words, or perhaps more specifically, the courage to speak them. “It’s your eyes.”

“My eyes?”

“Their colour. There’s a variety of dilithium crystal just that shade. I won’t be too technical – I know that’s something else we differ on – but it’s rarer than all the rest, because it naturally enhances the other kinds of dilithium when rigged to a standard warp core with particle combustion units. Er, that was too technical. What I'm trying to says is it brings out the best in what’s around it. You see?”

Bones shook his head. “Sorry, I—”

“That’s you, doctor. Er…Leonard?”

The use of his first name made McCoy’s cheeks feel white-hot.

“Leonard,” Scotty said more decisively. “You make everyone on this ship better for being here. That’s why I think you’re so grand. That’s why I wanted to go out with you.”

It was incredibly, mind-bogglingly sweet. In fact, Leonard McCoy didn’t think anyone in the world had ever put their feelings for him in such plain terms.

He realized, immediately, that his feelings were exactly the same.

“You’ve been a perfect gentleman about this whole thing.” Scotty drew a long breath. “But I knew it was a long shot from the beginning. I don’t expect—”

“No, Scotty, you’re—I—this isn’t a long shot!”

Leonard didn’t care that the words came out in a jumble of enthusiasm.

At last, it was all making sense. The increased urging from the crew to spend time together – to ‘socialize’ – and in the background of all their suggestions, one beautiful, brilliant engineer.

He spread his hands, breathing a laugh. “I didn’t realize—Jim made it sound like it was going to be some stranger I was dating. I didn’t know it was you.”

“Oh. I’m sorry if I upset your expectations,” Scotty said, a deep frown creasing his forehead.

“No, that’s the point.” He took Scotty’s hand that sat between them on the couch, gripped it. “If I’d known, I’d have said yes in a heartbeat.”

The engineer’s eyes – those unwaveringly warm eyes – widened in surprise.

“You would’ve?”

“Yes. Scotty, of course.”

A measure of shyness, one that Leonard had never seen before, crept onto his expression. He glanced down at their joined hands. “That’s not my real name, you know.”

His heart hammered wildly in his chest. “Montgomery,” he tried, and found it sat well in his mouth. “Montgomery.”

“Leonard.”

He wasn’t sure which one of them leaned forward first, or when exactly he closed his eyes. All he knew was that Montgomery Scott's lips felt warm against his, and the feeling was inebriating, as exciting and new as his first stolen taste of bourbon as a teenager. 

Then, he heard a sharp thud – and he whipped around.

Ensign Chekov lay sprawled at the foot of the lounge doors. From the angle of his landing, it looked like he had fallen clean through the entranceway as the doors swished out from underneath him.

“Aha…sorry,” the Russian squeaked.

The flurry of scolding whispers that were just out of sight clued Leonard into what was going on.

“Y’all know of a little Starfleet regulation called CMO oversight?” he said, a little louder than necessary. “As in, I can class the whole stinkin’ lot of you with psychological disorders for ruining my night?”

Chekov peeled himself off the floor – a thunder of footsteps scurried off down the hall.

“I told you not to get so close!”

“It was highly illogical to make such an attempt in the first place, captain.”

“Ooh, but they’re so cute together!” said someone that he could only guess was Nurse Chapel.

The doors swished shut, locking out the jumbled conversation of the entire senior brass of the Enterprise.

Great. He couldn’t even have a relationship for two damn seconds without it going public.

At his side, Scotty – _Montgomery _stood up, walking awkwardly to replace their glasses at the bar.

“Well, er, I…I know that wasn’t the most…”

“Wait.”

Leonard rounded the table, stopping him before he could go or speak any farther. Yet, standing before him, their gazes meeting, the right words weren’t so easy to find.

“I…It wasn’t you. Those idiots were eavesdropping. I wasn’t mad at you.”

“Oh, right, I knew that. But I understand if, er, if this isn’t something you want to—”

“I do.”

Montgomery paused, brows knitting together in confusion. “I thought you said that their idea of partnership – that needing somebody wasn’t for everybody. That you didn’t… I didn’t want to suggest—”

“No, you didn’t. I didn’t mean…I was bitter when I said that.” Leonard laughed softly. “It’s easy to dismiss your options when you don’t think you have any to begin with. I do want a partner.”

And summoning his deepest courage, he reached out and took Montgomery’s hand.

“I’d like it to be you.”

Montgomery’s face turned a shade pinker. “Oh, doctor.”

A flutter of nerves thrummed through his stomach.

“N-now, I’ve never been with a man before,” Leonard stammered, this revelation making him feel nervous and giddy all at once. “I don’t rightly know where to start.”

“Nor do I.” He turned his hand over, squeezed it. “But I am willing to give it a go.”

“Yeah?”

He gave a little shrug. “Why not?”

Why not indeed.

“Sc…Montgomery, can I kiss you again?”

A tiny grin cracked the Scotsman’s lips. “I'd be much obliged if you did.”

Slowly, moving together, they tested their eagerness.

It was different kissing a man than a woman, Leonard noted dimly. Montgomery’s hands were firmer, settling on his waist like a securing line, a grounding that he hadn’t felt since stepping on a gravity-bound planet. He could feel the slightest stubble brush by his nose, realized that his own must be rubbing against Montgomery’s cheek. He smiled into the kiss, and sensed the other pair of lips curve in response.

Oh, to hell with shyness.

He wrapped his arms around Montgomery’s neck, kissed him harder. It was barely a beat before the Scotsman responded, driving them backward a few steps into the bar counter. Leonard could taste the whisky on his breath, his tongue, and wondered how good he would kiss with bourbon, or gin, or orange juice. It didn't occur to him for a long time to stop. 

When at last they parted, their eyes moved over each other in a kind of cursory examination. _Was that alright? _they asked silently. _Do you still want this?_

And the answer was yes, and yes, and yes.

“I don’t know about you,” Leonard panted, his breath rough from effort, “But I could reschedule my shift tomorrow morning.”

Montgomery laughed, and its rippling amber sound made Leonard feel young and handsome, as he never had before.

“Doctor,” he said, just before they kissed again. “You always were a man after my own heart.”

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fanfic fact: Every time I wrote tumbler, I thought of Tumblr, and it opened up a dark hole of meta that I don't even want to go down. 
> 
> Speaking of which, you can hear more of my Trek thoughts at my Tumblr: fictionandtheatre.tumblr.com


End file.
